Music Box Blues
by Writing Rebel
Summary: Dean remembers a Christmas he had long ago. Slightly AU. Written pre-season four. Give it a try.


**Author's Note:**** Hey guys. This is a story that's been on my account for a couple years. I was looking over my old stories and noticed some big mistakes on this one. So I went back and fixed it!**

**This is actually something that I wrote years and years ago. It was long before Season Seven. Way back in Season Three when we all thought Lilith was the biggest bad the boys would have to face.**

**There is quite a bit of AU ness. And I know there aren't a lot of details regarding how the boys got to where they are here in this story. But, like I said, it was written years ago. So I will admit that it is lacking. But I am still very proud of it.**

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The man laid awake in his double bed. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn't make himself sleep. He turned onto his side, looking at his brother. The younger man was fast asleep in the bed across the room.

He ran a hand through his short blonde hair and sighed, turning his attention to the window between the two beds. Snow was slowly gathering outside, adding to the already thick, tall mounds of white powder.

Finally giving up, he removed the blankets covering his body and grabbed the robe at the foot of the bed. Making his way out of the room, he wrapped the thick dark blue cloth around him. Before he shut the bedroom door, he looked at his brother to make sure that he hadn't woken the sleeping man.

He crept down the stairs of the old house, hoping that they didn't creak under his weight. He made his way to the kitchen, and the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer. Taking a swig from the bottle in his hand, he walked into the den.

As he sat down in an overstuffed chair, the man took notice of all of the books stacked on every available surface, the herbs and spices. There was even a sawed off shotgun or young man, a hunter for all but the first four years of his life, sighed. The realization that he would never again have a reason to hold a Machete in his hand or fill shot gun shells with salt suddenly hit him.

The war had ended. Finally. Without doubt. His small, makeshift family and every other hunter they could find had faced an army from hell, quite literally. And somehow, by some miracle, they had won. It was all over. Done with. There was nothing left to hunt.

For the first time in a little over twenty five years, the Winchesters were free.

Dean looked out the window at his side at the salvage yard. He and Sam had been staying with Bobby since it had all ended three months before.

The two brothers were trying to figure out what to do with their lives now that hunters were no longer needed.

For Sam that was easy; go back to law school. And that is just what he had decided to do. Right now he was looking into re-applying. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that Stanford would welcome Sam back. They'd be crazy not to.

But for Dean, it was a little harder. Hunting was truly the only thing that he knew. He had never gotten away. Never gone out and made another life for himself. If he was honest, there was one thing that scared him more than losing his family or the things he used to hunt. And this was it. He didn't know what to do.

Hell, he couldn't even figure out what to do with himself when it came to Christmas. Just like he had never had a normal life, he had never had much of a Christmas either. Except for one.

He swallowed a very large portion of the liquid left in the beer bottle as if it would chase away the sudden burning in his chest caused by the memory of his one real Christmas.

John had asked him to take care of a hunt in Kentucky and Dean had gone alone, knowing how much his father hated the cold. What he had thought was going to be a very hard case was one of the easiest he had ever been on. It was finished in all of one afternoon.

When he had called John to get his next job, his father had told him to just hang out for a while and enjoy his holiday. Dean instantly knew that his father was giving him a break only because it was his first Christmas without his baby brother. Sammy was away at his first year of Stanford.

No matter what the reason though, Dean had been more than happy to just hang out for a had been a total of only five days when he met a girl. He had gone into a bookstore, only because he was missing Sammy, and met her there. She had asked if he needed anything. For some reason he had found himself coming back into the same little shop everyday. Just to see her.

Within a week and a half, he had gotten her to agree to go out with him. By week two they spent everyday together in the store and went out every night. By week four, Christmas was a grand total of three days away.

And for some reason, Dean found himself looking, searching for a gift for her. Hell, he was searching for the perfect gift. And one night he had found it. They had been out on one of their dates and she had looked into an antique store window.

Through the glass she had seen a simple yet elegant wooden music box. She had been so insistent that it looked just like the one her grandmother had had when she was little. Right then Dean had known that he had to get that box for her. And the next day, Christmas Eve, he had.

The two of them had decided to spend that night together. He had made his way to the old farmhouse that she lived in, music box in hand. After a few hours of old movies, burgers and beers, she had disappeared only to return a couple minutes later with a box wrapped in green paper.

She had told him that, while she wasn't sure if they were serious enough to give each other presents, she had known that she had to get him this when she saw it.

Inside was a brown leather jacket. It was obviously worn, but only slightly so and in very good condition. When she had looked at him sheepishly, he had gently kissed away any doubt that he didn't like the jacket in his hands.

Then he had handed her the unwrapped music box. She had beamed at the sight of the box in his hands and he had wasted no time in handing it to her. She had quickly opened the box and listened to the soft melody pouring out of it.

They had spent the rest of the night laying wrapped in each others arms on her couch, the music box playing softly, the lights on the Christmas tree glimmering in the dark, the fireplace crackling. It surprised Dean to this day that, even though no sex was had that night, that had been the best night of his life. He had never been as happy as he was when he was with her.

But his paradise had been turned to nothing more than a pile of rubble when his father called early Christmas morning, telling him that he was needed in New Jersey. Dean didn't want to leave the girl still lying in his arms but knew that he had to go. His father needed him.

Once he had left a note for the still sleeping woman on the top of the music box, he gathered the few things he had at her house and looked down at her for the last time. As he walked towards the front door, he silently shrugged into the leather jacket.

He jumped when the small grandfather clock in Bobby's den began to chime, indicating that it was midnight. No longer was it Christmas Eve. It was now officially Christmas Day, the day eight years ago that he left the first woman that he had ever truly loved.

Dean spotted his jacket slung over the back of a chair on the other side of the room. He got up, taking the soft material in his rough hands. He quietly and slowly made his way back to his window side seat.

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**Author's Note:**** Okay. There it is. I hope you liked it. If you did you can look for the sequel Can't Fight This Feeling.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Writing Rebel**


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